As she came forth again comforted, she found the Sage standing with his face lifted to heaven, smiling still at the sound, though faint and distant, of the children all calling to each other and shouting together as they reached the gate.  ‘Oh, hush!’ she said; ’let not the mother hear them! for it will make her heart more bitter to think she can never hear again her child’s voice.’

‘But it is her child’s voice,’ he said; then very gently, ’they are to blame; but no one will be found to blame them either in earth or heaven.’

The earth pilgrims went far after this, yet more softly than when they first left their beautiful country,—­for then the little Pilgrim had been glad, believing that as all had been made clear to her in her own life, so that all that concerned the life of man should be made clear; but this was more hard and encompassed with pain and darkness, as that which is in the doing is always more hard to understand than that which is accomplished.  And she learned now what she had not understood, though her companion warned her, how sharp are those thorns of earth that pierce the wayfarer’s foot, and that those who come back cannot help but suffer because of love and fellow-feeling.  And she learned that though she could smile and give thanks to the Father in the recollection of her own griefs that were past, yet those that are present are too poignant, and to look upon others in their hour of darkness makes His ways more hard to comprehend than even when the sorrow is your own.

While she mused thus, there was suddenly revealed to her another sight.  They had gone far before they came to this new scene.  Night had crept over the skies all gray and dark; and the sea came in with a whisper which sounded to some like the hush of peace, and to some like the voice of sorrow and moaning, and to some was but the monotony of endless recurrence, in which was no soul.  The skies were dark overhead, but opened with a clear shining of light which had no color, towards the west,—­for the sun had long gone down, and it was night.  The two travellers perceived a woman who came out of a house all lit with lamps and firelight, and took the lonely path towards the sea.  And the little Pilgrim knew her, as she had known the father and mother in the darkened house, and would have joined her with a cry of pleasure; but she remembered that the friend could not see her or hear her, being wrapped still in the mortal body, and in a close enveloping mantle of thoughts and cares.  The Sage made her a sign to follow, and these two tender companions accompanied her who saw them not, walking darkling by the silent way.  The heart of the woman was heavy in her breast.  It was so sore by reason of trouble, and for all the bitter wounds of the past, and all the fears that beset her life to come, that she walked, not weeping because of being beyond tears, but as it were bleeding, her thoughts being in her little way like those of